


Feathers

by KillClaudio



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, My First Fanfic, flashfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-28
Updated: 2007-01-28
Packaged: 2020-02-27 17:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18743920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillClaudio/pseuds/KillClaudio
Summary: Ray finds Fraser's Achilles' heel.





	Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ds_flashfiction, for the prompt 'tease'. According to my notes, this was my first ever fanfic. It's not too awful, but I'm posting it more for archiving than out of the expectation that anyone will actually want to read it. 
> 
> A special thank you to everyone who commented on [the original post on LJ](https://ds-flashfiction.livejournal.com/515349.html), and made me feel so very welcome to this community that's become such a huge part of my life.

"C’mon Frase, you must have some kinda weakness."

It was a mistake, Fraser reflected, to come on stakeout with Ray when he had something on his mind. He was nothing if not tenacious.

"Of course I have weaknesses, Ray. I never claimed to be perfect."

"Name one then."

"Well, I…um, I have…a tendency to verbosity, for one thing. I know that always irritates you."

"Yeah, and you talk a lot too. But that’s not what I mean. That ain’t a weakness, Fraser, that’s just a wachamacallit, an imperfection. There must be something that really gets to you."

"Well, the flagrant abuse of the law gets to me. Just earlier, for instance, when you were driving us here and exceeded the speed limit by approximately six and a half miles an hour."

"Not that! Not that, Fraser, something that you, like, can’t do anything about."

"It seems I can’t do anything about your criminal disregard for the law, since you don’t seem inclined to listen to me…"

At this point Ray lost it enough to actually growl, and Fraser hastily steered the conversation back to its original topic. "Something that gets to me…something, perhaps, that I am helpless against?"

"Yeah, sure, that’s it. Something you’re powerless to resist."

Fraser thought of his father’s reappearance, the helpless way a boy’s unconditional love warred with an adult’s resentment inside him. He thought of the overwhelming force of Victoria’s passion, love and hatred combined in a mix so potent he’d had no hope of leaving that mistake alone. He thought of the resistance he put up every day to Ray’s charm, his endearing humour and energetic mind, and the fear that haunted him every day that he would not be able to resist much longer.

"Nothing immediately springs to mind, Ray." 

Ray’s sigh sounded somehow disappointed. "Never mind."

"Ray?"

"I said never mind, Fraser!"

He had said something wrong, somehow. This was how their relationship had been endangered before, because Fraser had held back, had forgotten to listen to what Ray wasn’t saying. He had to offer something, no matter how tentative. "Well, there is something I, ah, that is to say-"

"Spit it out, Frase."

"I am rather ticklish."

"Ticklish, huh?" 

To Fraser it had seemed like an innocent admission, but the expression in Ray’s eyes spoke of plans being formed and schemes concocted. Oh dear.

* * *

By the end of the following week Fraser had almost forgotten the conversation. The consulate had a small delegation from Ukraine visiting, and Inspector Thatcher had taken something of a shine to the ambassador’s secretary. So much of a shine, in fact, that the pair of them had not been seen for several days.

Fraser had spent most of his time trying to cope with the Inspector’s duties as well as his own, making their guests comfortable, and trying to prevent Turnbull from cooking borscht at every conceivable opportunity. There was only so mmany beets a person could consume, and judging from the expression on the ambassador’s face when he emerged from the consulate bathroom this morning, it wasn’t only Fraser’s urine that had turned an alarming colour.

Fraser hated to admit to being relieved that it was Friday afternoon, but the sound of Ray’s cheerful voice in the consulate foyer had never seemed more welcome. They were going to have dinner at Ray’s apartment while they looked over a few case notes and ‘hung’, as Ray put it. Fraser was looking forward to the opportunity to do some actual police work this week. 

Not to mention seeing Ray. If he was lucky Ray would wear his old sweatpants at his apartment, the ones so loose they hung around his hips, and the sleeveless t-shirt which showed off his arms… With a snap Fraser shut the folder of papers he had been working on and stood, calling to Dief as he reached for his hat. The sooner they got to Ray’s apartment the better.

It was only ten to five, which might explain the slightly startled expression on Turnbull’s face as Fraser shut his office door behind him. But it didn’t explain the shocked and guilty look Ray wore, nor his hasty attempt to conceal something behind his back. Something Turnbull had just given him. Something…pink? 

"Ray, is that…?"

"Fraser, buddy!" Ray interrupted as he moved sharply back towards the door. "You ready? Where’s the wolf? Hey, thanks Turnbull, see ya soon, ok? C’mon, Fraser, let’s go!" He was through the door and away before Fraser could even think to frame the question. 

He turned to Turnbull, who was wearing an oddly innocent expression which Fraser knew from experience meant he was ready to lie at great length, and decided it was best simply to follow Ray. "Good night Turnbull. Turn out the lights before you leave, will you?"

"Good night, sir. And have a pleasant weekend!"

Outside, Ray had already hidden whatever the object was, presumably under his jacket, and was sitting in the driver’s seat and tapping his fingers on the wheel. "Ready, Frase?" he asked as Fraser opened the door. 

"Certainly." Fraser tipped back the seat to let Dief climb in the back, and got in next to Ray. It was amazing, he thought, how seeing Ray’s profile from this angle made you really appreciate the length of his eyelashes. The skin around his eyes was pale and fine-grained, and Fraser has a sudden urge to reach out and touch with his fingertips, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

"…so waddya want, Frase?"

Fraser jumped. Dear God, was his desire for Ray that transparent? "I’m sorry?"

"For _dinner_ , Fraser. What do you want for dinner?"

"Oh!" Unreasonable, he thought, to feel quite this relieved. "I’m sure pizza will be fine, Ray." 

"You don’t want anything else? Chinese? Italian? You don’t wanna take me to that new place down the block and impress me with how you speak fluent Turkish or something?"

"Pizza will be fine, Ray." Fraser replied, trying not to blush. He hadn’t been showing off, last week at the Fat Buddha. Mrs. Wong didn’t really speak much English. And if he had hoped to impress Ray...well, he could hardly be blamed, could he?

"Pizza it is, buddy." Ray handed over his cell phone with a grin as he gunned the GTO’s engine. "Sandor’s on speed-dial."

* * *

Fraser politely held the door open for Ray to enter his apartment building first, which absolutely did not have anything to do with the wonderful view of Ray’s backside he enjoyed while climbing the stairs. Sandor reached Ray’s apartment not long after they did, and Ray paid him with a smile and a gentle cuff to his ear before dumping the box on the coffee table and going to fetch plates and cutlery.

"And beer, I need a beer. You want anything, Fraser? Tea or something?"

"Thank you, Ray, that would be lovely." Fraser smiled. "I didn’t know you even owned tea." 

"Yeah, well." Ray scratched the back of his neck. "If you can have tea with the mad, giggly chick I figure you can have tea with me."

"The mad, giggly chick-?" Fraser had to think for a minute. "You mean Janice? She gives lectures on Burma in the post-colonial era?"

"Yeah, that’s the one. Though puppet theatre was funny. She gave me the creeps."

Dief raised his head from the rug to whuffle his agreement, and Fraser frowned at him. "Well, I must admit, she is rather unconventional. But then, so am I."

There must have been more self-pity in his tone than he had intended; Ray’s head whipped round immediately and he fixed sharp blue eyes on Fraser.

"Yeah, but not like that. I mean, your freakishness is useful. You just smile at people and they crumble and do whatever you want." Ray jabbed two fingers in the air to emphasise his point. "You…let’s face it Fraser, you inspire people. Do you think anyone finds Siamese puppet-theatre inspiring? I don’t think so."

"Burmese, Ray. Not Siamese." Fraser had to tug at his collar and pick imaginary lint off his jacket so Ray wouldn’t see his face. Ray’s approval was worth everything to him these days, and such warm praise raised the hope in him that Ray might…

A soft touch at the back of his neck made him turn sharply, but Ray was several feet away and carrying his teacup. It must have been his imagination. "Here you go, buddy. Take off the red thing. Make yourself comfy."

Ray disappeared towards the kitchen and Fraser began to undo the buckles and straps of the serge, and again felt a soft tickle just behind his ear. By the time he had turned Ray had his back to him and was already halfway to the kitchen. Fraser reflected that perhaps he was losing his marbles after all. 

"Did you see anything?" He mouthed at Dief silently, but the wolf just rolled his eyes before flopping over on his back and going back to sleep.

Ray returned and dumped a pile of assorted tableware in front of Fraser while he went to turn on the TV. As he returned to the sofa and settled on Fraser’s left the opening credits to ‘Dances With Wolves’ began and Dief immediately sat up and whined. 

"Oh, please." Fraser sighed. "It hardly features wolves at all."

"Yeah, plus it’s really cheesy and it has Kevin Costner in it."

Dief barked.

"Really, Diefenbaker, it’s Ray’s television, he should be allowed to watch what he wants."

"Hey, let the furball watch it if it’ll make him happy."

"Ray, he is a wolf, and, as I keep attempting to remind him, a wild anim-"

Fraser was cut off by a soft brushing feeling just under his right ear. It tickled, making him draw breath sharply and wrench his head round, but of course there was nothing there. He turned to his left to look at Ray, who was wearing an expression of such guileless innocence that he must be up to something. 

"Ray…?" But what could he say? Did you see anything touch me? Have you mastered telekinesis? Have I finally cracked?

"Yes, Fraser?" Ray smiled and leaned forward slightly, and it was only then that Fraser noticed Ray had one arm looped over the back of the sofa. He leaned over just as Ray brought his hand up and was rewarded by a face full of…pink feather duster? 

"That’s what Turnbull gave you this afternoon?" 

Ray laughed. "Full marks for deduction, buddy. You said you were ticklish, so…"

He leaned over with an impish grin and brushed the feather duster under Fraser’s chin, causing him to squirm and emit what could only be termed a squeak. "Ray, that tickles!"

"No, really?" 

Fraser’s squirming had pushed his Henley a few inches above his waist and Ray now leaned forward to run the feather duster along the exposed strip of skin, eliciting another squeal from Fraser. 

"Fraser, has anyone ever told you that you scream like a girl?"

"Once…or…twice…" Fraser gasped, trying to get his breath back as Ray reached out with the duster for a third time. He flung himself backwards, but instead of getting away he ended up sprawled against the sofa cushions. 

Ray immediately clambered over to kneel above him, brandishing the feather duster like a sword. "Do you yield? Resistance is futile, and all that."

A moment from the earlier conversation floated through Fraser’s mind. ‘Something you’re helpless against’. Was Ray asking…? Did he want…?

"I yield." He said decidedly, and then, obeying some unknown impulse he would bless for the rest of his life, reached a hand up to Ray’s neck and pulled him down.  
"I can’t resist." he whispered, just as he touched his lips to Ray’s.

Time stopped. For one intense, agonising moment Ray was frozen against him, and in that moment Fraser thought he saw their carefully built relationship crumble into dust. Then Ray’s lips moved, his tongue licking gently against Fraser’s mouth, and with a whispered ‘finally’ he pulled their bodies together.

* * *

What felt like hours later, but was in fact probably only minutes, Fraser finally found the strength to lift his mouth from Ray’s. He was sprawled on the sofa with Ray straddling him, and somewhere in the confusion Ray had lost his shirt and several cushions had fallen to the floor. It was delightful, perfect, more than he would have imagined possible half an hour ago, and yet now that he had it he wanted…more. 

And yet, he dare not ask. How could he risk something so new, so precious? But, as ever, Ray’s perceptiveness was second only to his intuition.

"C’mon, buddy." Ray stood and held out his hands, pulling Fraser gently to his feet. "Bedroom. I wanna see where else you’re ticklish."

As they headed towards the bedroom Fraser couldn’t resist pulling Ray closer to whisper in his ear. 

"I fear we may have to buy Turnbull a new feather-duster."


End file.
